oversizedshoulderpads | In which a dead boy walks into a coffee shop...

( oh.

so, he really carried out his end of the deal.

akira was half expecting to eventually find out that igor welched on the arrangement and there would be nothing he could do about it by that point. not that he could have really done much if he found out today—this sort of thing just wasn't a power that he had possessed. in fact, it was pretty surprising that igor had even offered to compensate him and even more so that he would accept this sort of request.

he doesn't know what to say when akechi sits down, looking as real and alive as he ever had. it feels like there's smoke in his throat, clogging up his airways, and suddenly akira's every move feels robotic. sojiro has already left the evening, pulled away early to fulfil a promise to futuba for a dinner date, which left the cafe entirely in akira's hands.

thankfully, his body seems to move on its own and starts to prepare akechi's usual cup of coffee. )

. . .

( here's a soft clinking noise when he eventually sets the cup down in front of akechi. )

[murmurs a "Thanks," as a pleasant boy does, then gazes down into the cup, breathes in the smell. he doesn't move to take a drink, of course; he's worried that if he moves his hands might shake, and anyway it's far too hot. for a moment he simply takes it all in, and when that moment is over, he peers up at the barista.

voice steady. hands steady. he doesn't quite make it to a smile, but he's not too far off.]

You look like you've seen a ghost.

Something like that.

( it comes out a lot more awkward than akira means for it to be, throat still full of ash. he had thought a bit about what he'd say if he ever saw akechi again, but now that he's actually right here in front of him, he's struggling.

how stupid.

he presses his hands against the edge of the bar, subtly trying to get a better look at akechi, almost as if he's expecting to find something wrong with his appearance. )

Welcome back.

It's good to be back.

[ is it, though? he's too numb to make that call, though he suspects the answer is no. still, that's the scripted response, and far be it from Akechi to miss a cue in his banter.

he isn't so coy about looking up at Kurusu, searching for... something. ]

Do I have you to thank for that?

And if you do?

( the question is practically an admission in itself. reaching up, he pulls a hand away from the bar to twist a lock of hair around his finger. )

We weren't going to leave you behind.

( he says "we" when he means himself. he also neglects to mention that his reasons for this weren't very pure-hearted. )

[ his gaze drops down to his coffee. still too hot to drink, but he has no idea what he's supposed to say to that. there are simply too many levels upon which he doesn't understand Joker. ]

...I see.

You sound disappointed.

( now looking at akechi openly, fingers still tugging at his hair. )

I don't know how to feel right now.

[ disappointment is part of it; his final act had been so right, preserving his dignity and restoring his justice. dread is there as well. he was never supposed to survive, is not equipped to survive. he's tired and confused and somewhere in there, he's touched as well. who else would have done such a thing for him? ]

...You'll have to catch me up on what happened in my absence.

Take your time.

( said simply enough. akechi has effectively lost months of time; there's no way that'll be an easy transition for him on top of everything else. his last stand was supposed to be just that in the end, a last stand. yet, here he is, fresh as a daisy, after everything is said and done.

what's left for him? his ultimate goal had been achieved already. shido was brought to his knees, locked away in a cell where he belonged—technically where akechi belonged too. )

Thanks to you, Shido was tried and convicted.

( he still thinks it was unnecessary where he knows there had been other options, but in the end, it's about the gesture. akechi could have just betrayed them one last time. there's the smallest hint of a smile, just a quirk at the edge of his mouth, as he continues. )

Although, not before confessing his crimes during a national broadcast.

Good. I hope he's suffering.

[ whatever's left of him after the Phantom Thieves got to him, anyway. he can't imagine it's much. that man was rotten to the core. ]

( that's a statement with a complicated answer, so akira doesn't say anything. he couldn't even if he wanted to because there's a small laugh bubbling out of his throat before he can even muster up any sort of answer.

lifting a hand up to his mouth, he tries to disguise the small smile behind it. it's not so much what akechi says that makes him laugh, but the fact that he'd say it at all. for the first time since he entered the shop, akechi feels real—not the persona, but the person he really is. )

Looks like this time I'm the one who's surprised by what you have to say.

Too honest?

[ chuckles darkly ]

I suppose I should thank you for keeping your word.

In which a dead boy walks into a coffee shop...

not so dead anymore, yea?

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